


A God Amongst Men

by EgoDominusTuus



Series: Lady in the Lake [3]
Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Betrayal, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Eventual Blind Betrayal Spoilers, F/M, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangle, M/M, Military, More Tags as it develops, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, eventual spoilers, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6542749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EgoDominusTuus/pseuds/EgoDominusTuus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I was young, they told me that my soul was forged from eternal steel. I didn't believe them then - I was nothing more than Arthur Maxson, a squire to the Brotherhood, who wanted to write, who wanted to dream.</p><p>I believe them now.</p><p>Inside of me burns a soul of eternal steel, and I am no longer young. I am Elder Maxson, of the Brotherhood of Steel - a God Amongst Men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When I Was Young

   When I was young, they told me that my soul was forged from eternal steel. They said that I would rise through the ranks of the Brotherhood, and that I would be the a God amongst men. They said that my blood was the purest of lines, and I was the epitome of what the Brotherhood stood for - they told me that I was a man who would rise through the ranks, and that one day... I would be a legend.

   I didn't believe them, when I was young. I didn't want to think that such responsibility weighed on my small shoulders. 

   When I was young, I thought I loved a girl named Sarah Lyons - she taught me how to kill a man with a single thrust of a blade, and she was a Sentinel in the Brotherhood. I learned that love is something that can't protect you - and I couldn't save her from fate. I could only warn her, and even that wasn't enough. Sarah Lyons disappeared from the Wasteland, and my childish imaginings of love conquering all along with her.

   When I was young, I was raised up within the ranks of the Brotherhood, harbored at the Citadel, learning under the tutelage of their best scribes, and their fiercest warriors. Under their care and supervision, my small shoulders turned broad, and I fought battles that should have taken out someone as young as myself. 

   When I was young, I was naive; the brutality of the world and its abominations stripped that innocence from me. I bathed the wounds in steel, cauterizing them and scorching away my weakness. 

   When I was young, I was appointed Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel - sixteen, and no other had achieved such heights in position before me, and none would after. It was my name, my legacy. My  _destiny_.

   When I was young, I learned to put away childish things, like stories and fables, and unrequited love. I grew from youth into adulthood, and I learned that you could only achieve your true desires through the strength of steel and taking what you wanted. I could only change the world and make it a place worth living in if I applied that strength through my rule - I wanted to change the world, and I had the strength and will to do it. 

   When I was young, they told me that my soul was forged from eternal steel. I didn't believe them then - I was nothing more than Arthur Maxson, a squire to the Brotherhood, who wanted to write, who wanted to dream.

   I believe them now. 

   Inside of me burns a soul of eternal steel, and I am no longer young. I am  _ Elder _ Maxson, of the Brotherhood of Steel -  _ a God Amongst Men _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an intro that needed to be written for the story, before I delved into actually starting. (Chapters will be longer after this one, of course <3) The entire fic will be from Maxson's POV, and will pick up (with a few chapters taking place beforehand) where A River Runs Through It left off. Beware, sex, angst, and action ahead.


	2. Bird in a Metal Box

**Arthur Maxson - Age 20**

 I didn't show it as I addressed the squadron of men and women before me, but my stomach was burning with the knowledge that Paladin Danse would be returning soon. I hadn't seen him in months, and I knew the risk that I ran in sending him to the Commonwealth. We'd lost a team in that fashion, and I wasn't naive enough to hold out hope that their lack of contact was just a brief interlude before we found them again. I knew what the world below could do - I knew it could chew up a man and spit him back out as a monster.

 I knew, because I'd been there. The Commonwealth wasn't so different from the Capital Wasteland - corruption and filth was everywhere, and the aberrations and abominations ran rampant, no matter the scenery. No matter the view, it never changed. 

  I'd sent Danse into that mess because he'd  _ begged _ . 

 

> _ Medical File DN-407P _
> 
> _ Paladin Danse _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Patient symptoms included inability to sleep and a "dull throbbing pain in head." All standard tests are negative. Evidence suggests post-traumatic stress disorder or similar issue. Until severity of issue increases, recommend voluntary removal from active duty. Patient was informed, but is currently in the field.  _

 

 I remembered the exact nature of the terminal entry from Knight-Captain Cade - Danse had been furious, and he'd  _ begged _ me then not to take him out of the field. He'd never begged me for anything, outside of the bedroom. It was a sight to behold, the man who had been serving the Brotherhood since I was a Squire asking me not to take away his life, the only thing that he knew. 

  In the end, when his lips met mine in a velvety brush, I could do nothing other than to grant his wish; to deny him would have been to cage a wild animal, to try to domesticate it. I could have kept him, and he would have been a pretty thing, but he never would have been happy again. His spirit burned loyalty to the Brotherhood, to  _ me,  _ and I wasn’t going to break that. He was released with a squad to the Commonwealth. I think he wanted to find Paladin Brandis and his team; I knew that he wanted to make up for the loss of his friend, Cutler, the loss of his former instructor, Paladin Krieg. I knew then that Paladin Danse harbored a false sense of hope in something that he would never attain... but I couldn't take that from him. I'd let him go, and I'd kept my reservations of the folly of his mission to myself. 

  He was coming back now, though, and I heard that he had a new Initiate with him. A woman, dressed in blue, a Vault Dweller who had seen the world in the height of its corruption. I’d met one other woman who was dressed in blue, a woman who came from a Vault - she’d swept into the Citadel and changed the very course of our history… though history had made a point to forget even her name. I wondered, was this Initiate like Kyler? 

  This  _ Malcolm _ had seen the world before.  She'd witnessed the fall of humanity under the tutelage of human greed. She'd seen technology run rampant until it had turned the world to ash and radiation. I wondered, did she feel guilt for the part that her people had played in what the world was now? I'd heard much about her; that she was young - not much older than myself. I'd heard that she was a soldier, a sniper, well trained, though a bit against the chain of command.

  She would fall in line, or she would be marked enemy. I'd learned long ago that respect was the first and utmost important thing for a leader to achieve; if your people didn't respect you, if they thought that there was a better option for leader...

  I closed my mind to the thought - I'd seen what had been said of Owyn Lyons. I knew what they'd done to Sarah. I wasn't going to have such betrayal amongst my ranks - I wouldn't stand for it. If this Initiate Malcolm couldn't follow my orders, she could get off of my ship. A firm command and a heart wrapped in steel was the only way to keep control, to keep my people safe. It was the only way to carry out my mission to cleanse the Commonwealth of its filth and bring about a new Era, where the world could look to the sky and know that it was the Brotherhood who had saved them from  _ themselves. _

  I was finishing my speech when I heard the door behind me open. I didn't turn - I didn't let it show in my body language that I knew it was Danse. I finished my statement to a chorus of  _ Ad Victoriam  _ that sent my blood blazing with pride. 

  "Elder Maxson." His voice called out as I heard the footsteps behind me dissipate in their dismissal. I only turned then, my voice coming out firm and authoritative - his new recruit would be with him, and she needed to see from the first moment that her eyes met mine that I was in charge of the entire outfit that she intended to join. 

  "Good. I was wondering when you'd make it up." I saw his eyes flash at my words, but my gaze fell to the woman at his side. She was short - short enough that I had to tilt my chin to catch her features. Short enough that it took me a moment to see her face, to  _ recognize  _ her face.

  I think that it was her own shock that managed to cover my own up. I'd learned long ago how to school my features, but something inside of me was thrumming with sensation; I knew her face, because I'd seen it a thousand times. The lockbox that Roger Maxson had left behind, the box that had been passed down through generations... the letters inside had deteriorated, until the words were impossible to read. The photos, however, had remained intact, though faded. One such photo was of a woman, a  _ beautiful  _ woman, with a pout that seemed to indicate she didn't like having her picture taken at all. I could tell from the photo, though it was in black and white, that her eyes were a rich color, and her hair was liquid black, like the sky at night. 

  I never could have imagined the liquid brown that was her gaze in my mind, mixed with copper, until it seemed to shine from her shocked stare. It  _ couldn't  _ be the woman from the photo... but it was. I still had the image, closed away in my quarters on the Prydwen. I still looked at her face and wondered who she had been, other than the words  _ River  _ scratched in pen on the back of the photo. I swept my gaze quickly along the length of her body - small, petite, so  _ soft  _ looking...   

_ River _ .

  "We have much to report, Elder." Danse's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I pulled myself to attention. "We located an Institute runner, and Malcolm found a chip of some sort in his head." It may give us vital information on the Institute itself." I had to pull my attention from the woman who so impossibly stood in front of me to bring it back to what Danse said. Though I wanted to know  _ more  _ about her, my first priority was the Brotherhood, and if we had information on the Institute, I needed to know.

  "Initiate Malcolm?" I let my eyes snap back to her, using the debriefing as an excuse to hear her speak.

  "I--" But she seemed mute. Her eyes stared up at me, and her face seemed pale, though there were splotches of scarlet on her cheeks. She looked at me like I was some sort of apparition, or perhaps a ghost. "Sir, I--" Her chest rose and fell, the Vault Suit that she wore tight against her body so that I could see the strain of her breast as she tried to catch her breath.

  "Initiate?" Though I knew why I reacted to her, there was no explanation for how she behaved. Her eyes blinked pupils widening to engulf the loops of color surrounding them, and I watched her attempt another sharp intake of breath. I knew what was going to happen before she spoke again.

  "I'm sorry, I--" She swayed forward, but I was already moving.

  "River!" And Danse's voice was far too alarmed, far too worried for someone that he was just sponsoring. I would handle that situation - but for now, my arms were extending, and Initiate Malcolm's soft frame slipped boneless into my touch. She curled against me, even as she fainted, and her lips trembled for just a moment.

   For just a moment, she was soft and peaceful in my arms, and something inside of me  _ clicked _ . It was Danse's hand, coming to my shoulder, his body leaning against my own to catch a look at her face that pulled me from my thoughts.

  "Arthur?" His voice was a hushed whisper - though there was no one the deck with us, I knew that people were still doing their duties below, Lancer-Captain Kells had probably reported back to his station. "Is she..."

  "She seems to have fainted." My voice was a bit lofty, and I turned my head, tearing my gaze from her peaceful face to catch my Paladin's worried expression. A soft squeeze of possessiveness ripped through me; he clearly felt  _ something _ for her, and I couldn't dismiss it as simple concern. I knew Danse, and though he cared deeply for all of the people in his squadron, this was different.

  "Sir," he pulled himself upright. Whether he had realized that he was allowing his emotions to play on his sleeve, or whether it was the footsteps on the stairwell, I wasn't sure. I shifted, picking Malcolm up in my arms - she weighed next to nothing, even with the gun that Danse carefully took from her and slung across his back. "She's been through more than most." I knew Danse, he wasn't making an excuse. He was simply giving me a reason.

  "Should we take her to medical?" He would know better than I did if she needed such attention. He stared for a moment, and then shook his head.

  "I think she just needs to lay down." I nodded once at his words, curtly, and motioned with my chin for him to follow me.

 "We'll allow your new Initiate to rest, and you can debrief me further on your mission and findings." And though the curiosity and burning question of who the girl in my arms was, and why she'd fainted at the sight of me still blossomed in my mind, I put it aside. The fact that we were closer to the Institute, to finding out how to take them out, had to take precedence in my mind.

 

-

 

**Arthur Maxson - Age 10**

 

The Guns and Bullets magazine that I'd swiped from beneath the Knight's bed had only kept me entertained for so long. I'd already written a bit on my terminal, but I still wasn't feeling tired.

  My eyes flickered to my door for a moment - it was closed, and I didn't hear much movement from the other side. After a moment, I slipped out of my bed and went to my desk; my eyes flicked to the door for another moment, and then I crawled beneath it. I'd hidden the metal box away carefully - I knew that members of the Brotherhood of Steel liked to keep an eye on what I was doing. For some reason, though, I didn't want them touching the metal box. I curled carefully beneath the desk and flicked open the lid.

  Staring up at me was the picture. It was worn and faded, and only part of the leafing around the edges of it had been my doing. I'd been looking at it for as long as I could remember - for as long as I'd been in possession of Roger Maxson's lock box. There were letters inside, but the writing was too faded for me to make out... patches, from military uniforms, little trinkets, a beautiful white-gold diamond ring... but it was the picture that I opened the box for.

  It was the picture that I always opened the box for. Penned on the back was the word  _ River _ , and I didn't know if it was her name, or where the photo had been taken. She looked young, and she didn't smile. Her dark hair was pulled back, but strands of it spilled against her soft features... and even though her lips weren't upturned, I could imagine what they looked like when she smiled.

  I could imagine how beautiful her dark eyes must have sparkled when she was happy.

  I wrote stories for her, too, but I didn't keep them on my terminal. I kept them carefully tucked away in the same compartment where I had the box hidden. I wrote stories of a beautiful dark haired woman named River, and a strong Knight named Arthur who always saved her from her woes. In my imaginary world, I made her smile.

  I loved Sarah Lyons, because she was strong and beautiful, and she taught me how to kill a man by stabbing him once in the torso. I loved the girl in the photo because she was  _ beautiful _ and she seemed so  _ sad _ , but so strong. I loved her for everything that I didn't know about her, and because she was the loveliest thing I'd ever seen.

  My fingers were careful when they pulled the photo out, and I let my head lean back against the wall while I looked at her - this had been taken before the bombs fell, before the world was ash, instead of green. She was dressed in a tanktop and military style pants - had she been a part of the war?

  Whoever she was, I knew that she was long gone by now... that had been nearly two centuries ago. But still, my heart couldn't help but to wonder...

  To want...

  I was a child, and I was full of dreams. I knew that I was going to have to give those up, and soon - everyone at the Citadel looked to me as though I had some great destiny, some purpose in life. They told me that I was the last of a long, strong line, and that my soul was forged from eternal steel... but all that I wanted was to  _ dream _ that maybe, just maybe, there was a way that I could meet this girl.

  This  _ River _ .

  Footsteps approached my doorway, and I quickly put the picture back, taking care not to damage it. I'd just stuffed the box back into place when I heard a knock on my door. I hit my head on the way out from beneath the desk, but pulled myself upright and opened the knob.

  My brows knitted together - blue. A blue jumpsuit. A woman in blue. I twisted my head up slowly, a slender frame that was lean, but corded with muscles like Sarah's body. My gaze continued upward, and I saw a small smile on a split lip, and green eyes that were full of a litany of emotions that I couldn't quite understand. Crimson hair fell in disarray around her ears, sticking up like she was some fae from the wild, come to enrapture us all.

  "Hello?" There was question in my voice, and she let her lips turn into a full smile.

  "I'm sorry. I'm looking for Elder Lyons.” She had a shotgun slung across one shoulder, and the strangest looking weapon that I’d ever seen on the other - long, like a rifle, but with bright metal that didn’t seem of this world. “Or, if you don’t know where he is, maybe you could point me into the direction of his daughter, Sarah?" And when she said Sarah’s name, her eyes lit up - that expression, I did understand. That expression was a physical show of what I’d just been feeling, lying beneath my desk and looking at my photo. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to frown or not -  _ I  _ liked Sarah. But the woman who stood in front of me seemed so  _ kind _ , if a bit rough. She stuck her hand out to me as though I were an adult, someone worth talking to and showing respect. "My name is Kyler..."

  I took her hand, but my mind was still on River - Kyler was nice, but she still wasn't  _ her… _

__ “My name is Arthur Maxson.” I took her hand, and her shake was firm. “I’ll show you wherever you need to go.” Even though I wasn’t really supposed to be out of bed in these late hours. She was odd - she didn’t look like anyone that I’d seen in the Wasteland. She was cleaner than that, less… ragged. I wanted to know more about her. 

   “Thank you.” And her smile seemed genuine. I turned to close my door, my eyes flicking back to the box beneath my desk for just a moment. 

_ I’ll be back soon, River _ . I thought the words, but I didn’t say them aloud. I was a stubborn boy, and protective of what was mine. No one needed to know about River - she was my secret, and I wasn’t going to share. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell from the format of this chapter, I think I'm going to be doing some flashbacks to fill in Maxson's past. It seems fun. I do think that I'll fully and completely detail the Danse/Maxson romance in the Danse POV story I'm going to write for this series (though, never you worry, there will certainly be scenes of it in here, and scenes a-plenty.)


	3. Cries at Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possessive shouldn't be in the nature of an Elder, but Maxson can't help but to see how Danse looks at the new Initiate. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Also known as, how Danse and Maxson got together the first time. Throw in a little bit of steam. Getting a little background on the heat and passion of their relationship, so we can build from there.

**Arthur Maxson - Age 20**

 

River was sleeping on my bed, and I think that Danse and I could both feel her presence in the room like a line across our skin. I understood why I felt that way - I'd been seeing her face since I was a child. I didn't understand what had happened to make my Paladin, who had always held a high air of professionalism and distance from the people that he worked with since Cutler had died. Still, even though I could feel the tension in the atmosphere, Danse filled me in on everything that had happened while he was away from the airship, ending with their finding and killing of a man named Kellogg.

  From the way that he spoke, Initiate Malcolm was cold blooded and practical when it came to taking out enemies; it wasn't something that I could have imagined by looking at her picture. There'd been fierceness there, but I'd never thought that she could be so eager and ready to kill.

  I'd never really known anything about her at all though. For all that I knew, she wasn't the girl in the picture - maybe she was simply related to her. Maybe it was a strange coincidence.

  I knew better than to believe such impossibilities. I'd gotten over my childish imaginings long ago... or at least I thought I had.

    Still, my mind latched to the stories that I'd written as a child, where a young Knight had saved the dark haired damsel. From the way that Danse spoke, the woman who laid prone on my bed would rather shoot you than to be saved. I couldn't help but to slide my gaze to her again - her face was twisted unhappily, her mouth turned down. A crease split between her brow, as though she was having some kind of nightmare. There was a part of me that wanted to go over and wake her, but I turned my attentions back to Danse instead.

  His eyes were all for her, watching the way that she laid tense on my sheets. I frowned, jealousy spiking through me like a living, breathing thing. It ran rampant across my senses and forced my body forward without thinking; Danse sat at the table in the center of my room, his chair angled outward - it was easy enough for me to stand and slip myself forward, forcing his legs apart. His head instantly snapped in my direction, his arms spilling up of their own accord and wrapping around my waist. I towered over him, and feeling his body pressed warm and smooth against my own and his attention rapt and focused on me sent pulses of pleasure pouring through my senses.

 Even as he pulled me close, I saw wariness cross his features. "Arthur?" I couldn't tell if his eyes meant to flash to the door or to the woman who slept on the bed, but I was having none of it. My hands spilled forward, fingers chasing soft lines along either side of his face, a dance along his jawline that pulled a low sound of pleasure from the back of his throat. I watched gooseflesh chase his tanned skin, and another pulse of satisfaction pierced me. There was something satisfying about the fact that my touch made his judgement lapse, his attentions to our newest Initiate made my mind spiral in a jealous need to claim him again as my own.

  My wandering fingers traced upward, finally spilling into the black tresses of his hair. I saw him catch his breath a moment before my digits tightened, yanking his head back and causing his mouth to spill open in a cry of desire that was only muffled by my lips suddenly crushing hard against the litany of his desire.

  Danse always _had_ liked it when I was rough with him.

 

\--

 

**Arthur Maxson - Age 18**

  The entirety of the Prydwen was mine to command, and I found myself stepping into the role of Elder as though I'd been meant for it all along. It was, after all, what they'd been telling me. I'd been assured through my childhood that I was meant for something great, and when I stepped foot onto the airship, with the entirety of the crew bringing their arms to their chest and saluting me as their leader... I couldn't help but to believe that they were right. I'd been bred, trained, fed supplements, and had the truth and honor of the Brotherhood beaten into me. My center was forged from steel, and nothing could make me bend or break.

  And yet it was difficult, sometimes - I never let it show, of course. I was strong, and I had the desire to be a good leader. The men and women of the Brotherhood looked to me as though I could bring about a real change, and I truly believed it when I said that I could. We had recruits from the Commonwealth and Capital Wasteland alike aboard our ship, and some of the members had been there when the the Enclave and Brotherhood had fought so long ago. Some of them knew more about the past than others - some still remembered the whispers of the Lone Wanderer.

  None of them remembered that her name was Kyler. I didn't mention her name.

  Likewise, all remembered Elder Lyons as a man with too many dreams, a man too soft inside. His desire to help the Wasteland had gotten both him and his line slaughtered... and everyone remembered that.

 _I_ remembered that. I shook my head, chasing the thoughts away. It was late - most of the people on the Prydwen were ordered to their quarters. It was only knowing that I wouldn't be seen that I shrugged off my battle coat - it was worn already, patched in places... but it had served me well. The armor inside made me even more broad than I was naturally - though my frame had shot up from my youth. I stood tall and well muscled, with a broad frame that looked imposing when I delivered speeches. I _was_ steel...

  But when no one else was looking, I wanted to be Arthur again, if only for a moment. A small sigh spilled from my chest, and I pushed the doorway to my quarters open, carefully creeping to the showers on the ship. As expected, the Prydwen was silent, save for the sound of light snoring coming from the area where the crew slept. I moved silently, my boots making soft plods on the frame of the ship that brought winces from me - I didn't want anyone to wake.

  For just a few moments, I wanted to be _alone_ , and to relax. I had to hold myself so tall when I was around the crew, and I had to see impervious to anything and everything. I had to seem as though the suffering of the people beneath us was just a casualty of war - that the technology that we would secure would save them in the end. I believed it - I truly believed that if we stayed true to the course of the Brotherhood, we would be able to save the world from even itself.

But Elder Lyons and his actions rang in my heart, against my conscience. Eyes that no longer existed in this world stared at me in accusation - I'd forgotten the people, and their pain.

  It wasn't just Elder Lyons, but Sarah... and my chest ached at the knowledge that I was throwing everything they'd taught me to the wayside in exchange for my position of power.

  But I'd learned through them, _because_ of them that power was _everything_ , and respect tantamount to your position. If the people didn't believe in you, didn't believe in the things that you could do...

  I knew what happened.

  The stress of it was getting to me, and for a moment I needed to feel myself for what I really was - a teenager walking in a man's body, and leading a group of people who looked to me like a God.

Most people went down to the field stations below to shower, so I wasn't really worried about someone else being in there - in fact, it was an installment on the Prydwen that most people didn't bother to visit - I personally found peace in the solitude. When I came to the door, however, I realized a moment too late that there was the sound of beating water from inside. As the knob twisted in my hand that the steel swung outward, I was caught by a wash of steam against my face. It only took a moment for my vision to clear, and my eyes instantly steered to the back of the shower room - three stalls, but the doors were all open faced. Three stalls, and in the first one, Danse stood with his bare back to me; his shoulders were bowed, his hands pressed hard against the wall so that I could see his knuckles whiting out. He didn't notice that I entered - he didn't turn the rippling muscles of his body away from me, or his full ass that had suds of soap still clinging to it from his hair.

  My body felt tight, and my mind took only a few moments to _click, click_ , **click**.

  I was moving without thinking; my hands were silent as I stripped out of my clothing, and it was only the sound of me sliding the lock into place that brought tension between his shoulders. He didn't turn, for the moment. He just stood, silent, with the water beating off of twitching muscles as though it was taking all of his strength to remain in position. I didn't stop to think about why Danse was here, in the showers, this late at night. He was one of the best soldiers that I'd ever seen - I'd been watching him since boarding the Prydwen, promoting him to Knight, with a line of Paladin on the tip of my tongue. I trusted him, his judgement, and his capabilities.

  I trusted him to do what had to be done - he'd just killed his best friend, the man that he'd joined the Brotherhood of Steel with. Cutler, who had been infected with the Mutant Virus. Cutler, who was an abomination and an affliction to all that we stood for.

  I knew why Danse was in the shower alone, and why his muscles were fraught with tension. I knew, and my body didn't _care_ . I _wanted_ him, and I was not a man used to being denied my wants - we'd shared stares and looks, but I'd never moved against them before. I’d given touches, brushes of my hand against his shoulder to test if his body would tense beneath my touch - I’d wanted him from the moment I saw him, standing strong and sure with a smile on his face and the strength of the Brotherhood beating beneath his breast. That smile had faded when he’d returned without his friend, and his face was graced with a thick scar that bisected his brow - for all the damage he’d taken, he was only more appealing, more desirable. He’d told Knight-Captain Cade that he was fine, and he’d had no choice but to listen, because Danse insisted upon it. I’d wanted him all along, but I’d never acted upon it - it would have been an abuse of my power, and a play onto the bond that he and Cutler so obviously shared.  

  But I needed him now - in that moment, I needed to feel like I was in control, like I had the strength and power that everyone presumed I was filled with. And Danse..?

  Danse needed comfort, needed a warmth to sink into him that would penetrate deeper than the sting of a shower. I could be that warmth. I could be that haven.

  I was forged from steel, and my insides were burning with desire for the man who stood before me. The burning of desire, my _need_ to feel in control, and Danse's pain rolled through me and sent me striding forward with a confidence that I hadn't possessed moments ago when I was silently creeping through the hull of the Prydwen.

  He only turned when he heard footsteps approach, and I let my fingers glide up the planed muscles of his back before he'd managed to completely about face. My voice was a soft command as I let greedy fingers skate along his back, tracing at light scars that marred otherwise perfect flesh.

 "Elder, I--"

 "Shh, Knight." My voice was a low growl, and I could feel it pulse along his flesh. He quelled beneath my fingers as though he was under order. My hands moved quickly, twisting downward until I found his wrists I pulled them up in a sharp motion, pinning his hands above his head and sending him rocking against the cool steel of the wall. He let out a hiss, but his body betrayed him; he ground back against me, and he didn't try to stop me or protest when my mouth found his shoulder. My hungry tongue licked along his shoulder, drinking at the droplets of water that still tasted of his sweat, or maybe tears. His groan wasn't a protest, but he tried to speak again.

  "Arthur, I--" He said my name, and it made me feel like a man, like any other man _._ I wanted it and didn't all at once, and it forced my hips forward to grind against the part of his ass cheeks, to thrust him harder against the wall.

 "I said, shhhhh." I murmured the order against his neck, teeth nipping at the muscle there and working back and forth slowly until he growled beneath the touch.

  The fact was, we both knew that he could have stopped me. It would have been as simple as a word, because here in the showers, my orders meant nothing. But Danse didn't stop me, and I didn't want to stop - we set the tempo for our relationship in that moment, with my growled orders being law. My fingers trailed, one hand holding his wrists above his head and the other diving into his soaked hair. When the digits knotted there, my new found lover let out a cry that rocked through my body and made me thrust forward hard, fast, and eager for his touch. He twisted his head eagerly, and I felt his mouth sink sweetly against my own - lips, teeth, tongue, and the taste of him flooded me in our first kiss; and his touch was like velvet against the needy press of my pout. Danse was mine, and I had every intention of branding it across his body, across his soul. I wanted to keep him, for as long as I was here, for as long as I was Elder. I wanted him to be _mine._

 

**\--**

 

**Arthur Maxson - Age 20**

"Arthur." His words were a hot, whispered cry as I tugged his head back, slanting my mouth over his again. He whimpered the words out, soft and aching, and too eager for the fact that we had someone asleep on my bed. Our relationship had been this - heat and stolen kisses in the late hours, while everyone else slept. I'd called him into my office more than once to report, only to send him out again with aching bruises that almost curled a smile on his lips.

 We had been a thing of heat and fire since that first time in the shower, and I didn't want to think of anything coming in between that. Even as the worry flitted my mind, I heard the rustle of sheets, and Danse and I sprang apart like two children nearly caught by their instructor in school. What was worse, I'd wanted to keep my mouth against his, wanted her to wake to see who he belonged to... but I couldn't. My position of power wouldn't let me.

  ~~My curiosity of her wouldn't let me~~ ~~.~~

 Her eyes blinked, slowly. It took a moment for them to focus between us, and I watched them land on me again. This time, she seemed more prepared for whatever tumultuous emotion was breaking her insides, because she simply pulled herself up right on the bed and tore her gaze from me; I could see how hard it was for her to manage. She turned it to Danse, and her mouth twitched into a frown when she spoke. "Paladin, where's my rifle?"

 I'd watched Danse take careful care to prop it alongside her on the bed. He'd refused to pull her jacket off when we'd come into the room, his shaking head negating my attempts to make her more comfortable and letting me know that apparently there would be repercussions if I tried.

 There were a dozen things I wanted to say, scathing, curious, insecure, _needy_ , and all at once confusing. Instead, I pulled myself upright, my hands coming behind my back and shifting me into a position that looked authoritative.

 "I'm glad to see that you're awake, Initiate. If you're feeling up to it, I'd like a report."

  She stared at me, and I could swear that she was seeing a ghost, I watched her fight the impulse to rack her eyes back over to Danse, but apparently she didn't want to seem weak, in need of leaning on someone else. She pulled herself up from the bed and shouldered the near antique looking rifle - I wanted a closer look at it. Pre-war technology, even in weaponry, was something that I made my concern.

 "All right then," her tone implied a lackadaisical approach to my authority, but I could see the way that her face was a shade paler than it had been when she'd first walked in, and the way that her brown eyes were just a bit too bright. "What do you want to know?"

   _Why are you looking at me like you know me?_ The question burned, unfettered inside of my chest, but the words that came out were the words of an Elder, of a leader.

 "From the top - how did you come to be in the future?"

 I'd come a long way since giving in to impulses in the heat of the shower, at the ache of midnight. There was only a small part of me that burned to be that boy again, but he couldn't exist. Not here, and not now.

  No matter how much I wanted it.


End file.
